


Ice

by KalikaBarlow



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 03:11:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2213595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KalikaBarlow/pseuds/KalikaBarlow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was always so cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice

**Author's Note:**

> For my darling sister, Khaleesi92.

His skin was impossibly cold. No matter the weather, or excess of physical activity, he rarely warmed to anything above freezing. When he would roll over in the night and press his body against hers, it sent a chill down the length of her spine, a sensation that was not entirely unpleasant. His lips were ice against her cheek, his fingers stabbing shots of cold down to her very inner being. He was cold, the frozen god, breathing frost down her neck.  
  
“You’re so cold,” she purred. She took his hand, guided it to her breast, and smiled. “Iceman.”  
  
He smirked at her, digging his fingertips into her. He could hurt her if he liked, and she’d more than just enjoy it. Like him, she got off on the fine line between pleasure and pain. Screaming brutal agony was only one step down from howling in ecstasy, as he’d discovered. Such a versatile little wench, she was. “Perhaps, my dear, you need to warm me up?”  
  
The grin that crossed her face was so akin to the cat that ate the canary, that Loki had a moment where he was honestly concerned that he was going to end up as her mid afternoon snack. She was known for perchance fluctuations of hunger, and then subsequent whining that made him both roll his eyes and smile.  
  
It was her fault.  
  
She was far too cute. And he enjoyed ruining her far too much. He liked the way her skin coloured purple with bruises from his harsh grip on her hips, the dent of his teeth in her shoulders, and how she was always so warm. So warm.  
  
His eyes rolled back into his head as she swung a leg over him, sitting above him with that adorably cruel smirk on her petite face. Anyone would think she was a picture of innocence, but oh no. He knew her better than that.  
  
“Such a cold, cold man,” she murmured, almost to herself, dragging the tips of her painted nails over his chest and watching how they left tracks of red over his skin. “How am I going to warm you up, I wonder?”  
  
He flashed his teeth at her. “Decide quickly, or I’ll—.”  
  
In a move so quick he almost missed it, she impaled herself on him to the very hilt with a sudden shift of her hips, her fingernails digging deep half moon crescents into his chest, parting those sweet, pink lips in a keening moan that sent electricity lashing down his body, curling his toes and arching his back in a desperate need that overtook him quicker than he could process.  
  
 _“Gods!”_ he moaned, hearing the echo of his own name from the nymph above him.  
  
The sound of his name from her lips was an addiction, a drug that he could never kick. Her hips moved in a delicious rhythm, chanting his name in his ear, working herself towards a peak that he would drive her to again, and again, until she was a spent, sweaty mess under him.  
  
Then he would be warm.  
  
He bared his teeth in a bestial snarl, gripping the porcelain flesh of her thighs, jerking his hips up to meet her.  
Hard.   
  
She yelped, grappling for his shoulders for balance, trying to keep up with his rather vicious pace. He wasn’t going to be ridden softly and slowly, no. He would not be teased by this creature. He was a God, a King!  
  
The thought sent a chill down his spine and he shuddered, throwing his head back in a roar as her teeth sunk into his clavicle, adding to the overwhelming heat that engulfed his body and hers in a blazing inferno of desperate, insatiable lust.  
  
She was his. His and his alone. His queen. His whore. His pink lipped bitch who he would fuck whenever the need seized him, to bite when his jaw ached, to mark with bruises and bitemarks to there could be no question to whom she belonged.  
  
He felt her clenching tighter around him, and opened his eyes to behold her. Her cheeks were flushed, those lips parted around her gasping breaths, her eyes wide with awe.  
  
Awe.  
  
He smiled, slowing the pace just enough for her to get her breath back.  
  
“Get on your knees,” he breathed, “and _kneel_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts accepted and encouraged!


End file.
